


John's Miracle

by Aeterna12



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Abandonment, BBC Sherlock - Freeform, Gen, Sherlock's back, fandom: sherlock holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-06
Updated: 2012-10-06
Packaged: 2017-11-15 17:44:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/529935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aeterna12/pseuds/Aeterna12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John gets his last miracle. The last thing he asks of Sherlock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	John's Miracle

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic xP. Hope people will enjoy it!

A black car pulls up next to John. It’s a reflex now. No need for orders. John gets in.

“I have a phone Mycroft.” called out John in an annoyed voice as he enter yet another one of Britain’s abandoned buildings.

“I’m glad you came, John.”

“What do you want from me? You destroyed your brother, who you were supposedly constantly worried about ---”

“There’s something I think you should know. Sherlock’s in London.”

John’s annoyance quickly gave way to surprise. “Sherlock?! What do you mean Sherlock’s in London? I thought he was d---”

“Dead. I know. So did I. But something in you must have known that he wasn’t. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have asked for that miracle when you visited his grave.”

“How did you---”

“I know everything. I had my suspicions that my brother was pulling another of his countless tricks and so I had someone keep an eye on you at all times.” Mycroft pulls out is black notepad and casually flips to a page where he has jotted down some notes. Reading from his notepad, “You... you told me once that you weren't a hero. Umm, there were times I didn't even think you were human. But let me tell you this, you were the best man, the most human... human being that I've ever known, and no-one will ever convince me that you told me a lie, so there. I was so alone, and I owe you so much. But, please, there's just one more thing, one more thing, one more miracle, Sherlock, for me. Don't be... dead. Would you do that just for me? Just stop it. Stop this.” Looking back up at John, Mycroft continues, “Quite a touching monologue. I dare say that’s the kindest words ever uttered on my brother’s behalf. Anyhow, it seems you’ve gotten your miracle. He’s back.”

John remains quiet, caught up in the flood of emotions associated with memories the fateful day when he saw his best friend fall. He didn’t know how to react. Sherlock was alive? But how? More importantly, why? Why hadn’t Sherlock told him? Of all the people in the world, didn’t he deserve to know Sherlock’s plots? Wasn’t he the one who would always be there to get Sherlock out of any trouble he’s gotten himself into? Wasn’t he Sherlock’s colleague? His one friend? Suddenly his emotions turned to bitterness and anger. What right did Sherlock have to play around with him as if he were some pawn on the London chessboard?

“You’re angry. You’re hurt. You feel deserted. Betrayed.” Mycroft’s statement cut into John’s internal thoughts. “But you knew what kind of man Sherlock was. You knew and yet you became his friend. You got close to him despite knowing that there was always this underlying possibility that he might just toss you to the side one day.”

“No. He’s not that kind of person! He might seem heartless and cold, but he cares ---”

“And yet, you are here, having mourned for the death of a live man for the past three months. You’ve gone back to your therapist. But you, John, you haven’t changed one bit since the first time I brought you here. Ever the army man. True to your friends and loyal to the end. Quite an idiot you are.”

“Can I leave now?” Mycroft’s words had only exacerbated John’s internal pain and he was in no mood to discuss his feelings with Mycroft.

“I suppose. But don’t you want to see Sherlock first?”

John was silent. He turned around to leave.

“John -”

The old familiar voice arrested John’s retreat. His heart began to pound in his chest. No, there was no way he could forget that voice. Ever.

“I’m sorry. I should have said something, but I couldn’t. There was no time. Please...”

John whirls around. “You left me. You deserted me. And now...no” and he starts to leave - resolving to run from the pain of the betrayal he was feeling.

Sherlock rushes to catch up. “John, I had to. You were in danger. You, Mrs. Hudson. Lestrade. Everyone. And if you knew I was alive, you would have been in danger. I couldn’t tell you.”

“Sherlock. I can’t do this anymore. I used to think that nothing happened in my life. Then I met you and in some ways, your way of life became mine. I thought I was at least... that just perhaps...that I was more than a substitute for the skull on your mantelpiece...that I actually maybe...meant something to you.” John swallows. It’s hard to continue. “And then you... you left. Just left me there... alone. I need to move on. I can’t.”

“John... I need you.”

“I’m sorry Sherlock.” With this, John walks away, leaving Sherlock frozen in place staring after him.


End file.
